


Impressions

by ursamedium



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: a nord being racist, stormcloak positivity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-31
Updated: 2012-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:48:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28346394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ursamedium/pseuds/ursamedium
Summary: A Nord's first impressions of an unusual Dark Elf.





	Impressions

Haldor's first impression of the unfamiliar Dunmer was that he was an idiot. The guy wasn't even paying attention to his surroundings as he traveled. It didn't take much effort to sneak up on him, and, well, Haldor isn't the most stealthy of Nords. He had his blade to the ashy-toned neck without even a little resistance. The elf was wearing expensive armor and his weapons looked expensive. Haldor had no doubt that the greyskin must have stolen them.

His second impression was that he'd underestimated the Dunmer. He wasn't sure how the elf had managed to press that dagger up to his stomach, right at a weak point in his armor. The knife felt hot through the fabric. Some sort of enchantment, no doubt.

His third impression was that the Dunmer was a bit mad. He still had his sword pressed to the elf's throat, the dagger at his stomach, and the stranger still was all smiles. He introduced himself as Meros Beran, and he talked a lot. It made Haldor's head hurt, just a little. He didn't understand half the things the elf said.

His fourth impression was that the Dunmer was very charismatic. All flattery and Haldor wasn't used to flattery. He was just another Nord soldier, not particularly bright, never excelled in anything, nothing notable. But here this elf was, telling him all these nice things, and he was smiling, not making fun of him. It was enough to lower the sword. The elf lowered his dagger, too.

His fifth impression was that... well, he wasn't sure quite what it was. The elf wanted to join the Stormcloaks. An elf, fighting for the Nords. He wasn't sure what to think, but Meros presented a passionate, compelling case for his reasons to join, and who was Haldor to say 'no' to a potential ally? He was nothing but another soldier. It was enough for him to escort Meros back to the city.

His sixth impression was when he encountered Meros in Candlehearth Hall, a week later. He was surprised that he recognized the elf; greyskins usually all looked the same to him, but Meros was, he might say, a little handsome, even. As far as knife ears go, at least. They talked, for a long time. It felt comfortable, natural, even, somehow. Like he'd known the elf for a thousand lifetimes. Sure, he was an elf, but it didn't matter, really.

Haldor suddenly found himself with a friend, one he would defend to the death and he was sure the elf would do the same for him. Maybe the Dunmer was a bit mad, and he was pretty sure the guy was a criminal and too smart for his own good, and he made Haldor feel stupid sometimes, and he never shut up... but he was all right, for an elf.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't feel particularly at ease with this concept these days, but when I originally wrote this, it was with the intent that this character would be 'rehabilitated' from being racist.
> 
> Additionally, Meros is my player character. He is intended to be a worshipper of Sheogorath, who I view, in a positive light, as a patron for acceptance of neurodivergence and mental illness.


End file.
